Epilogue

There had to be flowers—lots of flowers, Leila had insisted on it. There also had to be candles—tea lights, tapered candles, and candelabra. She wanted them on every table and in every corner.

“Whatever you want, baby,” Evan had assured Leila as they made plans with a wedding coordinator to renew their vows. He assured her that she could have the wedding she had wanted all along—not some rushed ceremony in a judge’s chambers like they had had two years ago.

The ceremony had turned out to be everything Leila had hoped for and more, as was the reception. He knew Leila would look beautiful in her wedding dress, but she had exceeded his expectations. Throughout the day, Leila seemed to glow from the inside out.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his ear as they sat at their wedding table. Angelica was in his lap, licking the icing from their wedding cake off her plump little fingers as she wiggled to the band music.

“For what?” he asked, turning to Leila.

She caressed his cheek. “For doing this. For trying your best. For loving us.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Lee.”

“Yes, I do! You stuck it out when you didn’t have to.”

“Neither did you,” he said, leaning over and kissing her. “Thanks for staying.”

He watched as she blinked back tears. “Don’t make me mess up my mascara again,” she blubbered.

They weren’t the only couple that had “stuck it out” so that they could find something close to a happy ending. There were several others around the reception room who had traversed seemingly insurmountable obstacles, but managed to make it through, over, and under them.

Evan’s gaze shifted to his brother, Terrence, who was currently on the dance floor doing the electric slide with Isabel, Diane, and a few of the other reception attendees. No one would guess this was the same man who had fractured his leg, lost his eye, and battled depression a few years ago. A very pregnant C. J. stood off to the side of the throng with Terrence’s son, Duncan, in her arms, smiling and laughing at her husband.

Though Duncan’s arrival had been quite the surprise for the young couple, the two seemed to be making it work even with the occasional “baby mama drama,” Terrence had conceded a few times to Evan. Despite the hiccups, C. J. adored her stepson and had taken to being a stepmother like a fish to water. For that reason, Evan had no doubt she’d make a wonderful mom when their baby arrived in two months.

Paulette and Antonio were also surviving and thriving despite the chaos in their past. Little Nate was a well-adjusted toddler, showing no signs of the trauma he may have endured during his kidnapping. Even now he laughed and squirmed in his mother’s arms at their reception table while his father tried to shovel food into his mouth.

Paulette and Antonio could have fallen apart during the kidnapping and Claudia Rhodes’s trial afterward, but they actually seemed to have gotten stronger. During her sentencing, they had each talked about learning the art of remorse and mercy and shocked the judge and prosecutors by asking for Rhodes to receive a reduced sentence for her crime. Because of their request, Rhodes would only serve fifteen years for the kidnapping instead of the thirty years to life she had faced.

“She was in pain and she made a bad decision,” Paulette had confessed to Evan when he asked her why she and Antonio had requested leniency during the sentencing. “Tony and I know how that feels.”

Of course, not everyone had reached their happy ending. Their half-brother Dante never got one, which was lucky for them, since his cherished dream was to destroy their family and everything that had been important to them.

It had been more than a year since Dante’s murder. Their half-brother had been found dead in his late mother’s house. The cops had also found two other dead bodies—two young women who were naked in bed in one of the upstairs rooms. All of the victims had been shot in the head, at point-blank range.

The cops didn’t know what to make of the young women or the squalor they had found in the home, but judging from the several pounds of weed and heroin in the house, they figured someone living there had run afoul of local drug dealers. Maybe it was a hit put out by the competition, some of the cops speculated in the news stories that had circulated for weeks after.

Evan considered it ironic that Dante had been killed merely because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, considering how many people out there had wanted to kill him—Evan included. But thanks to the many people he had crossed, death had been following Dante around for years. It was bound to find him eventually.

Evan hadn’t spoken to Charisse in more than a year after he sent her one final email saying he could no longer have contact with her for the sake of his marriage and out of respect for Leila. Despite that, she had persisted. Charisse had tried several times to speak with him again, even going so far as showing up at Murdoch headquarters unannounced, but he stoically kept his distance. Finally, she gave up. The last he had heard she had moved back to the Caribbean with her mother—to a beach community—and she hadn’t attempted to contact him since. The only exception was the week before his wedding, when he received a bouquet of two dozen white roses at his office with a mysterious note attached.

“I hope you’re finally getting what you wanted, Ev,” the note read. “I truly hope you’re happy.”

It wasn’t signed, but he caught a whiff of a familiar perfume emanating from the parchment to let him know who had written it. He gave the flowers to the upstairs receptionist and ripped up the note. He would never respond, but he also hoped Charisse was finally happy, because he certainly was.

“Everyone is dancing now,” Evan said now, turning to Leila, who was smiling at the crowd. “Wanna take another spin on the floor before the night is over? After that we can head home, set up Isabel with some popcorn and a movie, and put this one to sleep. Then we can get started on our second honeymoon,” he whispered, wiggling his brows seductively.

She chuckled. “Sure! Why not?”

They both rose to their feet, each holding Angelica’s hand as they walked to the dance floor.